


Even In the Dark

by stargazinggirl773



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec is a werewolf, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Break Up, but its not super relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:24:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargazinggirl773/pseuds/stargazinggirl773
Summary: When Magnus and Alec breakup, Magnus goes off the rails; drinking and eventually cutting himself to escape.  When Alec returns as a werewolf, will he be able to save Magnus?





	Even In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> First person POV, here we go

I’m not sure how long it’s been since I’ve seen those blue eyes. 

I’ve been alive for so long that many places and people have started to blur together. Each day without him, each day since his betrayal, has lasted for what feels like years. 

I felt like something was tearing open inside me then, a sharp searing pain drawing cracks through me, hot blood gathering in the back of my eyes. Now I feel empty, like a shell. I suppose I was right when I predicted that he would break my heart.

Sometimes when I’ve drunken myself into a stupor, sitting on the floor of my apartment in my pajamas, I argue with him, while Chairman Meow purrs in my lap. Not one of my best moments, I’ll admit, but am I really that much worse than those in any romance film, where lonely souls plead and write heartfelt love letters and commit dramatic acts in desperation?   
No, if there’s something that I’ve learned during all this time, it’s that the deeper pains are only felt on the inside, and that they cannot be spoken about or shared in a way to facilitate understanding. 

Catrina says I worry her, and I would assure her that I’m fine, but we’ve known each other so long that I’m certain she would discern my lies, so the point is rather mute.

Anyways, during these conversations I have with his fantom, his ghost that still wonders throughout, I tell him that I am in the right. I know I am, I have nothing to be sorry for… Yes, it’s true I loved Camille, I tell him. In some ways I still love her and always will, but you should have known that you were different, that what I felt for you was more. I trusted you, I scream, wrapping my arms around my knees; the stylish holes in my jeans offer perfect handholds for my clenched hands. I was ready to give you everything, I was starting to… there was going to be no one after you. 

An open blossom in my chest is receding, day by day, its petals? closing slowly, wrapping tightly around another. I’m not sure if they’ll ever open again. 

After some time when my voice has become hoarse, I get up and go to bed, and wake up with hangovers of varying degree, where nausea makes me stumble and the headaches cripple me until I manage to get some parched water down my throat. 

I haven’t been to the institute since, but my loyal- and desperate- customers, those who overlook my red eyes, tell me that he is gone from there as well, bitten by a werewolf and has fled deep into the forest. His parabatai has been relentlessly searching for him.

This is when I truly hate myself, in moments of lucidity when I understand why he hasn’t come to me. I chased the love of my life away. This is when pain is preferable to the self hatred. The first angry red lines hurt, of course, but its almost a sweet hurt, and when there’s too many I can feel an angel wrap his arms around my chest and take me somewhere else for a while.

-

Where I hear this, I can’t remember, but eventually whispers drift into my ears that Valentine has come out of hiding, and everyone is terrified. There are rumours that he has gathered an army larger than comprehension through a portal to another dimension, and is ready to lay waste to us all. This is when, of course, the Nephilim take action. 

They send out calls to the institutes, gather supplies, and training increases now that lives are at stake. Eventually the command comes, summoning all classes of downworlders; faeries and vampires and werewolves and mermaids and all other supernatural creatures, to congregate in Idris, at the center of their holy and hidden Alicante.

The clave’s Great Hall is in the eastern portion of the city’s towering crystal castle/cathedral, the higher parts of the towers shattering and diffracting beams of light so that they sparkle like diamonds. The Hall is an enormous room that I have only been in a few times. There are rows of seats along two the crystal walls such as those in a courtroom, and a beautiful chandelier high above, golden and twisted and twinkling. There are several narrows glass windows high above. Little light shines through, as it is now evening, and the room is crowded, filled with the highest ranking or most skillful Nephilim, the Queen and King of the fay folk along with their knights, several leaders of vampire clans, high warlocks and witches. 

A large tank has been brought in for the Councillor of the merpeople. Her lilac hair obscures her face, but the green scales on her curled tail flash. 

The only entrance to the Hall is a long, wide corridor. The Hall and corridor are separated by heavy oak doors, and they swing open now as the werewolves arrive. There must be about twenty altogether, some human and some wolf. 

Most are wolves; trust isn’t given easily, especially in the presence of vampires.

Many of those in human form are middle aged and scruffy. The wolves are a variety of colors, black, grey, white, speckled. One is an unusual shade of caramel brown, and another, a small female wolf, has matted blood on the tips of her white fur.

I know I shouldn't be able to, but I recognize him instantly. He’s one of the larger wolves trotting into the Hall.   
His fur is thick and midnight black, and his eyes golden, the large pupils within flicking around wearily towards the vampires opposite.  
He’s beautiful.

Suddenly I can’t breathe and my knees threaten to give out, but Ragnor catches me and holds my arm tightly. 

The need to touch him, to hear his voice again, to see his face once more is overwhelmingly strong, and my eyes water so that I nearly miss the movement to my right. It’s a blonde shadowhunter, I can’t recall his name, and he’s calling out and moving towards him before he- Jace, now I remember- is restrained by several others.

-

The meeting drags on for several hours, long into the night, and I only manage to listen for short periods of time before my gaze drifts to him. 

Catarina and Ragnor walk alongside me when we’re all allowed to leave. It’s pitch black save for the lamplights of witchlight dotted along the paved path we walk on. They depart via colorful portals, after I’ve managed to assure them that I want to stay in Idris a while longer. After all, the city really is spectacular at night, full of orbs of witchlights. Its true, so Catarina eventually leaves after giving a long hard stare, which is fortunate because she’s only seen me cry once, and I’d rather not repeat the experience.

There’s a river called Hymres that runs just outside the city, and beneath the moon the water is black ink, silky smooth and flowing quietly. 

It’s a chilly night, and the grass is wet beneath me. In the quiet I can finally break apart, and sob quietly into my arms, sobs that wrack my body and leave me burning up inside. The feeling that I can’t run and can’t escape is closing in. This is what my life has ended up as, I realize, and it’s all my fault; I am alone, in the entirety of the word, and I know that my heart will never be able to love someone new again.

Self hatred really is a sort of like a bubbling sludge that eventually overflows, spreading throughout your limbs.

A quiet but purposeful noise alerts me to a presence, and I whip my head to its source. There is a slightly darker shadow amidst the black, a tall figure. He slowly walks closer to me, down the hill to the riverbank while I sit frozen. I’m not sure if this is a dream or not. 

He’s slightly more muscular now , his pale arms now corded with obvious strength. His hands and bare feet are stained with dirt and grass, but his eyes are cerulean, his hair inky black. 

“Magnus” a husky voice says. 

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away. This is a nightmare, this is a dream. I hear him pause, hesitate, then continue towards me. I’m not sure if I should run to him or drown myself in this black, almost sinister river.

I have changed, there is no doubt. I am wearing an oversized sweater I wouldn’t normally caught dead in, loose jeans, and my hair is plain black and starting to curl around my ears. 

There is movement much closer to me now as he sits down beside me, and I realize I must not have heard him move. He can be very quiet when he wants to be. 

I should feel afraid of him, helpless… I don’t, I can’t.

I can see him turn towards me while I look straight ahead, into the ripples and swirling whirlpools. 

He asks, “How are you?” 

His voice is so familiar, so comforting. I can’t afford to let him see how far I’ve slipped. I don’t deserve him anymore, maybe I never did. I keep silent, wrapping my arms around myself.

Sighing, he shifts a little on the grass. Don’t leave, I silently scream. Please don’t leave, I love you.

He stretches out his legs into the water and gasps quietly. No doubt it feels like melted ice. When he raises them again I reach out against my better judgement and run my hands across the skin of his ankles, calling forth my magic. The blue fire spreads and coats his skin, bringing warmth to the flesh. 

“I’m staying here in the city for a couple days, then I gotta head back to my pack. I was wondering if you’d want to catch up.“ He tells me.

Right, he’s the leader of his own pack. It should have been obvious, he has all the desirable qualities; strength, intelligence, wisdom, and of course, courage.

When I don’t respond he brushes a hand through his hair.

“God Magnus, I know you hate me, but-” he begins.

“I don't hate you.” I interrupt. I’m not strong enough, and I can’t stand to hear the hurt in his voice.

“Then…” He trails off. 

I stand up, albeit shakily, and stuff my hands in my sweater. 

“Where to?”

-

 

He’s spending two nights at one of the houses at the edge of Idris, along with some other werewolves. Turns out the Clave has allowed temporary refuge for many of the downworld leaders, partly as gratitude for the long journeys travelled by some, but I suspect mostly to ensure loyalty, and even debt, from them.

It’s a relatively small residence compared to the majority of homes more in the center, and it has a cozy feeling to it, the neat spacing and simple furniture. 

A fire crackles in the fireplace, a clock ticks, his phone buzzes. I am caught up memorizing every detail in his face so that when I have to leave it won’t hurt so much… 

We are walking through the “living room” and into his kitchen, while he quietly murmurs to me a story of some sort of one of his pack members, when I trip over something. 

His arm darts out as quick as a striking snake, catching me by my wrist to pull me upright. The warm hearted chuckle that is beginning gets stuck in his throat as his fingers shift. I feel sick and attempt to dislodge his hand, but his grip is stronger than I imagined, and I can do nothing as he feels along the ridges in the skin of my wrist. 

He uses his other hand to catch my other wrist and bring it up to the light, so that the red marks are easily visible. 

His voice is a whisper. “What did you do, Magnus?”

Although I cannot run, I turn my face away anyway, shame and self loathing extending their tendrils.

He grasps me hard by the shoulders, shaking me slightly. His eyes are wide, searching and.. afraid?

For one insane moment I can feel myself get angry and defensive, ready to blame him for everything. Again. But his eyes are so blue, and I honestly know I won’t be able to live with myself if I cause him pain again. I need to go, disappear from his life and never taint it again. He has a family now, responsibilities, and no one in their right mind would turn away from a handsome face such as his. Yes I’ll be alone, but I’ll deal with that, one way or another.

I pull away from him and his grip slackens a little but not completely. 

I say “Nothing. It doesn't matter. Let go of me.”

“What the fuck.” he responds. It’s not a question, and the obscenity sounds unfamiliar on his lips. “You’re hurting yourself! Were you… were you trying to kill yourself?”

His fingers are resting over my pulse, and something tells me that he’ll know if I’m lying. Better to get it over with now, the faster I get out of his life the better.

“I don’t know. Yes. Now let go, please.” 

Instead of the immediate questioning that I’ve been suspecting, he stills. I shift on my feet, and examine his hands where they’re still wrapped around my wrists. They’re pale, and I can see the faint blue lines of his veins beneath the skin. There are millions of little scraps and scars across his knuckles, along with a faded silvery rune of his bicep. His parabatai rune. 

“Say my name.” The command is so random that I can feel my lips part. “You haven’t said it once yet”. He continues.

I haven’t said it months, actually. At first it allowed me forget everything that had happened and go somewhere else, and I’m afraid of what will happen when I do, if it will make things more real. I have a feeling he knows this, and his grip grows tighter.

I look up into his eyes; we are the same height now. “Alexander Lightwood” I breathe. The words are strange and alien. It feels like the last time I spoke them I was living in a different dimension. My heart pounds as hands come up to frame my face.

Alec steps closer to me. If there was ever a chance of running, this would be it.   
I don’t move. 

“You should know that I still love you, Magnus Bane. And if you were looking for a way to break my heart again, this would be it.” 

His hands are gentle and his eyes earnest, and I don’t know what to say. I can already tell the truth in his statement, and there’d be no use arguing otherwise. I won’t apologize either, the pain was the only thing keeping Alec there with me. 

When Alec’s beautiful face pulls I realize I may have said that last part out loud. I reach out to smooth away the furrow in his brows, keeping my fingers on his skin to trace down the slope of his nose and ridge of his right cheekbone. 

“You’re not Camille,” I say, holding on to him, as he starts to pull away, “I never wanted you to be.” 

When he kisses me, I can feel the softness of his lips, just barely angled to slot against mine. It’s gentle, compared to the rushing urgency of the last time we did this, light years ago, and although I want to dive into him and never let go, I realize that maybe we need to change things a little bit, so that we take a different path than that vertical, quick drop, gravity pulling us down to the ground.

-

Alec pushes me down into the sheets, his weight warm and comfortable above me. His thighs bracket my hips and he entangled our finger together as he slowly sucks marks onto the fragile skin of my neck. In turn I thrust up against him, and feel his answering hardness through his jeans.

He mumbles sweet nothings against my jaw before I grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips up to meet mine. The kiss is still slow, still new, but deeper this time. Our tongues mingle and I lose myself in the wet, warmth of his mouth, threading my fingers through his hair. We know each other, though much time has passed, and I can remember every one of his weaknesses, or what they would be to enemies. To me, these places on his body are just the ways that I can make him feel as good as I do. 

The moonlight illuminates him in faint blue light as he pulls of his shirt, and I explore all the places where his muscles has strained and grown. Alec shivers as my fingers trail from the wide breadth of his shoulders,down to his narrow waist, feeling every vertebra in his back.

He lowers himself down to kiss me again as I unbuckle his belt, licking up into my mouth before I bite at his lower lip. He moans. It is the first sound he has made tonight.

I brace myself to roll us over so that I can lick my way down his chest and hear him groan and shiver. Instead Alec pushes down on my shoulder, minutely shaking his head, and pulls my hand to him. I frown slightly, confused, before he kisses gently on the inside of my wrist. I jolt, shocked. 

A flurry of emotions go through me then, ranging from uncomfort to fear to embarrassment. There’s no hiding from this anymore, from what I’ve done, from how weak I’ve become, he knows, he’s tasting my flaws. 

I want to run away and I struggle to get up but Alec just places more of his weight on me. For the first time tonight I’m truly scared. 

“Please let me.” Alec says quietly, stroking over my wrist with one hand while brushing of into the hair at my temple with the other. He kisses my cheek, then waits for an answer. 

Slowly, hesitantly, I nod. Alec kisses me once more then returns to his task, slowly sliding his tongue across each and every scar. I try to lie as still as possible, titling my head back and closing my eyes. It doesn’t stop the tears from escaping and sliding down to the pillows. 

We don’t manage to get all of our clothes off at the end, but it doesn’t matter, this wasn’t about the physical act of sex. Alec still trembles when he comes, biting his lip, his eyes focused on me with so much emotion that I want to look away. When I fall of the ledge I can’t stop the gasp from escaping from my mouth, but Alec just bend down to swallow it up, then continues searching to capture more. 

It is long minutes before I can eventually open my eyes, only to find Alec curled around me, a heavy arm wrapped around my chest protectively, tracing patterns into my skin. In the moonlight I can make out the new marks on my wrists, blue and purple bruises almost completely obscuring the dark lines beneath. 

I am enveloped in warmth and I am starting to lose the fight against sleep, but I turn in Alec’s arms anyway. He is not asleep and is instead watching me closely. As I rest my head on his bicep his arm tightens against me and he shifts his legs to tangle with mine. 

In the blue of his irises I can see a smaller ring of gold, just encircling his pupil. It is the same shade that I saw when he was a wolf. The gold glows slightly in the dark, just like my own slitted, demon eyes, radiant even in total darkness.


End file.
